


Break

by TheSoulReader



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Hardcore, Lemon, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoulReader/pseuds/TheSoulReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nice little two shot with a married Soul and Maka. Huzzah. Not my monkeys...they belong to Atsushi Okubo. But I appreciate being able to have some fun with them. Totally M rated (all my stuff is). Chapter 1 is all FEEL TEAM SIX and Chapter 2 will probably blow some innocent little minds. Jus' sayin'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Soul lay spread out on the ratty old couch, idly playing a solo round of Halo while Maka cooked dinner. Every now and again his eyes would lift from the screen and fall on her as she moved about the kitchen. She seemed the same as ever if you didn't truly know her. But Soul did know her. He knew everything about her in a very near to literal sense.

They had only been married five years, romantically together for eight, but when Soul really sat down and thought about it he realized that he and Maka had been with each other for fifteen years. How could he not know her? He'd be a pretty shitty weapon partner if he couldn't read his own meister after so much time together.

And it was his very ability to read every single nuance of Maka that had him so concerned.

They had been trying to get pregnant for a year now, but success had eluded them. Initially, the prospect had been incredibly enticing to Soul. How could it not be? The idea of a little piece of Maka and himself scampering about made him deliriously happy and the prospect of constant sex while trying to create another soul was certainly nothing he would shy away from.

The first three months had been wonderful. Yes, they were both disappointed when a pregnancy test would come up negative, or Maka's period would make an obnoxious appearance before they'd had a chance to even take a test, but that only gave them the incentive to have more sex. There was no way that things could end poorly.

But Soul had miscalculated.

Maka was not and had never been the kind of person that would accept failure. She figured that any failure was simply an opportunity to learn and then try again until she succeeded. To her, everything was a test, and every problem could be solved by buckling down and studying. And that was when earnest love making had devolved into scientific experimentation.

There were books, mountains and mountains of books that Maka read to try and glean more information about how to get pregnant faster. And those books would have not been such a thorn in Soul's side had she not required him to read them too. It was as if nothing was sacred anymore. A man couldn't just bone his woman and hope for the best. No no. There were supplements and specific positions, and scheduled sex.

The aforementioned scheduled sex would not have been so bad if Maka had not been Maka. But Maka was all about routines and timing, and if they were scheduled to have sex at six pm on Tuesday, they were having sex at six pm on Tuesday. There was no way out of it or around it and her behavior became so predictable that Soul had renamed his dick "Pavlov." Maka didn't even have to work at getting him hard anymore. She would walk up to him smelling like the blackberry perfume she had taken to wearing for their little trysts and he would be standing at attention in seconds.

It had pleased her.

He had been a little disgusted with himself, mostly because he had become more than ok with the predictability.

He was also a doting husband and he wanted his wife to be happy. So he did whatever was necessary to offer her comfort. Besides, it was still sex. Was he really going to say no? Of course he wasn't going to say no! Soul didn't care if she wanted him to look in the mirror and recite Dante's Inferno in Farsi while they fucked, as long as it meant he got some. Desire was desire man, and if he was sated and she was happy, he wasn't going to complain.

But then there were the last three months. Intimacy with his wife, of any sort, was almost nonexistent. Soul was lucky to get away with a hug or two throughout the day. A peck on the cheek was barely tolerable to her. He knew that it wasn't him she was shunning…but it was. And it hurt. It hurt exponentially more to know that he was hurting because she was hurting.

If he were honest with himself, he felt like a bit of a failure. It took two to create a new life and he somehow felt he wasn't holding up his end of the bargain, though realistically there was nothing more he could offer her. Fertility testing (at Maka's insistence, of course) had shown there was nothing wrong with either of them, and they just needed to give it more time.

Instead, Maka just stopped. She stopped everything.

She still read, but books about conception, and child rearing, and all manner of things baby were put in boxes and ignored. Any sort of TV show that made mention of children was turned off. She pointedly ignored children when she passed them on the street, rather than stopping to coo at them while trying to convince Soul that any brat that wasn't theirs was the most amazing thing on the planet.

He could sit on the couch with her and she would lean on him, but she would not try to steal a kiss. Any kiss he offered went unanswered, and sometimes she would even shift away from him. His heart cracked a little more every time she rebuffed him. He felt a monumental loss at the way she was retreating from him, though he was doing his best to maintain their connection.

Even trying to comfort her with his very own soul had been rejected. And that was why he was absentmindedly playing Halo while she puttered around in the kitchen. It wasn't until he heard the crash of glass that he broke out of his stupor, leaping from the couch and scrambling to the kitchen.

Maka stood silently in front of the sink, a crushed drinking glass settled beneath her fingers on the counter. Her wavelength was buzzing and erratic, though her body remained still and quiet.

Soul reached out a hand to her, hesitant, fingers twitching before landing on her shoulder.

"Maka?" he whispered to her.

"Why can't I do it, Soul?" she replied, unmoving.

"What?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"People have been doing this for eons, right? Getting pregnant, having families…" she trailed off, wavelength pulsing and twisting.

Slowly she turned, mossy eyes shining with wetness. She stared into carmine eyes and her lower lip quivered before the dam broke and she sank to the floor.

"WHY can't I do it?!" she wailed. It was an unearthly noise, born of sorrow and nauseating pain.

Soul felt his own stomach lurch as the anguish of her wavelength entwined with his, but he shoved it down as he collapsed on the floor next to her and swiftly pulled her into his lap. Strong arms enveloped her and he kissed her hairline, long fingers drawing through ashen strands.

"It is not you, love," he murmured in her ear. "It is us, and there is nothing wrong with either of us."

She struggled against him, unwilling to hear his words.

"A year, Soul! It's been a year, and we haven't…I haven't…what if I CAN'T?!"

His nostrils flared and he stiffened beneath her. Never in his life had he ever thought Maka would question her ability to succeed at something. She did not lose. It wasn't an option for her. The last time she had doubted herself in such a way, they had been thirteen years old and attempting to stand against Stein. He had convinced her then that the size of a soul did not matter, that she would be victorious. Why should now be any different?

"Look at me," he demanded, voice low.

She hiccupped, attempting to halt the flow of tears that caused her cheeks to redden and her breath to catch. Her body shivered and shuddered in his arms, but she did as he asked, staring up at him.

"You are Maka Albarn, three star meister, wielder of the Last Death Scythe, professor of Shibusen. You are my wife. You are the strongest person I know in this world," he nuzzled behind her ear as he spoke. "You are also the most infuriatingly impatient woman I have ever met in my life!"

Maka gaped at him, sorrow momentarily forgotten as it was replaced by anger. If a book had been handy, she would have brained him with it.

Soul only continued on, alternating between stroking her hair and making sure she stayed seated in his lap.

"There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with us," he emphasized the last of his sentence. "It just takes time, Maka. This isn't a test. This isn't something that you can conquer with books or a few extra study sessions."

Two large hands cupped her cheeks and Soul marveled at how tiny she still was, his thumbs wiping away the last tears that fell from glassy eyes. He pressed his forehead to hers as he had done so many times over the last fifteen years, offering a chaste kiss.

"It will happen, love. You just have to let it."

She sniffled again, a delicate wrist slipping across her face as she wiped her nose. "What if you're wrong?"

He smirked at her, tugging her hair lightly. "I'm not wrong."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I figured better safe than sorry to mention potential trigger warnings in this chapter. It's pretty...not nice. Not non-con, but Soul is not at his kindest in the latter half of the chapter, and it may make some people uncomfortable.
> 
> There will be a short epilogue, because this needs one (yus).

For a long while they just sat on the floor together. Soul took his time inspecting Maka's hand for any injury caused by the shattered glass and Maka…let him. Initially he had been surprised. She had spent the last few months consistently trying to push him away, and he was elated that she was allowing him to care for her at all. His wavelength was practically dancing, all soft music and warmth as he carefully tried to connect. When Maka offered her own in return, overflowing with love and a gentle apology, Soul all but melted. When she leaned up and offered a kiss that was decidedly heated, he felt his eyes roll back in his head and he barely stifled a groan.

Delicate fingers sought ivory hair and Maka toyed with the strands gingerly, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she chanced a glance upwards.

"Soul?" her voice was low, soft. It was her bedroom voice.

The poor death scythe was doing his best to quell the rising arousal in his pajama pants, afraid to scare her off.

"Maka, I-," he was silenced with another kiss and soft nip to his jawline.

"Take me to bed?"

Ruby eyes widened and his breathing stopped momentarily. Then he remembered he needed to continue taking in oxygen if he wanted to have sex with his wife. And live. Living was also important. Mostly so he could have sex with his wife. His wavelength had gone from sweetness to something darker, almost sinister. It spiked with arousal, throbbed and buzzed, and he tried to rein it in.

"Are you sure?" he rumbled. His voice was hushed and he tried to hide his need. It was pointless of course. Maka knew his soul as well as he knew hers, and there was little he could keep from her.

Maka leaned forward to gingerly kiss the bridge of Soul's nose. Her fingers continue tugging at the hairs on his nape and she grinned when he rumbled again. He had come to enjoy a bit of pain during sex, and it amused her that something so inconsequential as pulling on his hair was setting him off. She casually slid off his lap and made her way to the bedroom, taking the time to stop in the door frame and offer him a smoky smile.

"Coming?" she grinned at him.

Soul scrambled to his feet, narrowly avoiding face planting in his haste to capture the woman that had denied him the last three months. He had his pride, and he could have told her no, but he missed her. He missed sex and he missed her. Even talking to her had been its own release, and now he was getting sex, too?

SCORE!

The moment he crossed the threshold his eyes were on her, glazed over, dark, filled with a combination of lust and love. He practically vibrated with want, his wavelength frenetic and unsteady. Soul was no longer an untried teenage boy. He was a man. A man that knew exactly what he wanted, how he could get it, how he could take it. And he wanted to take so very desperately, but he stood before Maka in silence.

She canted her head, ashen locks falling across her shoulder, and stared back at him. When he didn't move she strode towards him, the air of confidence she had lost in the last three months returning in full force. A pale hand reached up to cup a tanned cheek and she stared at him so intensely he thought he may just burst into flames.

"I know I've been controlling these last few months," Maka murmured, apologetic. "I am sorry, Soul. So very, very sorry. What I dd wasn't fair, or right. I know that when I hurt, you hurt."

He offered her a slight nod, acknowledging her words, remaining rooted to the floor. Her eyes dropped from his to the scar on his chest and her palm spread over it again.

"I can feel it in your wavelength, Soul. You know I can. I know you know I'm sorry, and I know what you want," Maka's voice dropped to a sensual whisper. Her fingertips caressed a naked bicep and she felt him shiver. She felt those wine red eyes on her. Eyes that she could get drunk on, over and over again.

"I haven't been able to just let things happen. You were right. So...I'm going to do what you said."

A moonlit eyebrow raised at this statement. Soul was as confused as he was eager.

Small hands pulled his larger ones to her waist and she raised herself up on her toes to allow her lips to brush his.

"I trust you, Soul. I love you. So take me."

And then he was on her, like a lion on a lamb. His lips crushed against hers and he growled. Her body was crushed to his and he had no words to give her, just loud groans and the grind of his hips against her belly and hands that were everywhere. The last time he had been this eager was after he'd been away on a mission for a month, sans his regular meister. He had been so keyed up when he had returned home he'd all but put his hand through the apartment door in his haste to get inside and in her.

Maturity had taught Soul how to use his size to his advantage and he had no qualms about using it now, shoving her onto the bed. There was a flash of blue followed by the noisy rip of fabric, Maka's night shirt falling to the floor in ribbons.

"Was that really necessary?!" she shrieked at him.

His reply was dark and simple. "Three. Months."

Blazing eyes melted into emerald as he very pointedly gave the same treatment to her pajama bottoms and underwear. This wasn't a game for him, no role playing. He was as serious as death itself and there was a mild challenge in his eyes, daring her to tell him to stop.

Maka was momentarily startled, but she wasn't afraid. This was a more sinister side of Soul, but it had nothing to do with the black blood or Little Oni. This was a part of what made Soul, Soul. It had always been there. She heard it when he played the piano, saw it in the way he so fiercely protected her. If she ever did tell him to stop, she knew he would. He had an edge, certainly, but he wasn't cruel.

Soul's wavelength had settled mildly, but the music carried on it was absolutely sinful. Deep and slow with a sharp edge that somehow made Maka a little dizzy. Her own soul pushed back gently, bright and brilliant, wrapping around that of her lover. She sighed when the weight of the bed shifted and she felt Soul's breath on her neck. It was hot, warm, rhythmic. Intrinsically Soul Evans.

He nudged her neck with his nose, rumbling and growling, taking his time with the smooth skin beneath her jaw. He pinched it between sharp teeth and licked at the red marks he left behind. Soft lips traveled across her collarbones and down her chest, and the chuffing noise that Maka had become oh so familiar with over the last 8 years made its appearance. The difference now was that Soul wasn't ashamed of the noises he made. Quite the contrary. He frequently talked during sex and it was moderately unsettling to Maka that he was being so quiet.

It wasn't until he latched onto a stiff nipple that she was torn away from her thoughts. The only thing that spun about in her head was how good it felt to have him on top of her again. She wondered why she had been so fucking stupid and how the hell she had denied herself of this for three months, because that tongue was fucking magic. A soft chuckle sent vibrations through sensitive flesh and she gasped and shuddered. Smug bastard.

Maka raised one of her legs, drawing a foot along the inside of Soul's thigh to graze his crotch. A smirk spread across her face as she heard him gasp and then huff. She was promptly silenced with a bite to the underside of one of her breasts. She would have kicked him off if it hadn't felt so good. Instead he was rewarded with a soft purr and the arch of her hips.

Soul's lips curled into a mild sneer and he closed his eyes. He was barely holding it together as it was. Maka's antics were not helping in any way, shape or form.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman, Maka," he managed to grit out.

She huffed at him, sounding almost annoyed. "I didn't ask for you to be a gentleman. I know what you want, Soul. You're the one who said to just let it happen. So let it happen!"

Soul stared at her for a moment, hair falling into his eyes as he bowed his head. He felt something inside himself snap and he did as she bade him. He turned off his mind and just let it all happen as he needed it to. Her legs were thrown over his shoulders and his tongue was buried inside of her and she was screeching as if Asura were trying to turn her inside out all over again. He loved it. He loved that noise. He loved knowing that he was the cause of that noise.

Shyness had been abandoned years ago and he stared directly at her as his tongue swiped over her clit again and again and again. It was a silent challenge, daring her to look away from what he was doing.

She didn't.

Maka never looked away because she was not one to back down from a challenge. Instead she cussed at him and told him how good he felt and that if he stopped she'd murder him with her bare hands and let her father watch. That earned her a hard suck on the sensitive button and she yelped. It was a most pleasurable sort of pain. It frustrated her that she couldn't grind against his mouth with the position he held her in.

A noise of displeasure escaped her when Soul stopped his assault and lowered her hips back down to the bed. Dusty gold eyebrows furrowed as she watched him, curious. He nosed at slick folds, inhaled deeply, and offered a cursory swipe of his tongue before he sunk two fingers into her. The intrusion was sudden, unexpected, and so fucking good, and Maka arched into his hand as he crooked his fingers inside of her.

As quickly as those fingers had entered her, they were gone. Before she even had a chance to protest, Soul discarded his pants and promptly flipped her over. Maka squealed, but didn't complain as he arranged her to his liking on her hands and knees. It wasn't as if he hadn't taken her from behind before, but when he leaned over her, so far over his hands overlapped hers and his torso rested against her back, she blushed.

Her voice was small as she rocked back slightly, stilling when he growled. "What are you doing?"

Soul's head dipped and his velvet tongue flicked over the curve of her ear before he responded curtly. "Breeding."

His hips hunched forward and his chin hooked over her shoulder, a yelp of pleasure escaping him as he sunk into her in a single thrust. It had hurt a little. She was tight after three months of nothing, but he didn't care and she said nothing, instead opting to groan her approval. He panted in her ear, his thrusts short but deep. A heavy snort blew through his nose and he whimpered as he took a moment to grind deeply inside of Maka's molten softness.

Red eyes flicked up to the mirror that hung on the wall opposite the bed. He had installed it there because he immensely enjoyed watching what he was doing to Maka during sex. Tonight that mirror only fanned the inferno that raged in him and his wavelength spiked again when he caught sight of her tiny frame covered by his. He stared at that image and refused to look away from it.

Soul had always known the difference between male and female, always been cognizant of the difference in size between Maka and himself. But never in his life had he ever felt so incredibly masculine. He was in charge, he was the boss. He was taking what was his. It didn't matter to him if that made him the dirtiest son of a bitch on the planet, he had earned his right to procreate with this woman and he was going to take advantage of it.

Soft panting swiftly morphed into whimpers which in turn transformed into angry growls as his hips continued to flex and grind. Maka moaning and rippling beneath him was not helping his state of mind and he leaned over and bit the back of her neck. He was unsure if his intention was to still her, silence her, or force her to be louder, but she somehow managed a strange combination of the three before shoving back against him.

Maka took her turn the look in the mirror, gasping at the visage presented to her. Soul's eyes were dark and unfocused. The skin of his torso slid like silk against her back and she watched the motion of his body as he drove into her. She had no idea what he was looking at, or if he could even see anything at all. He seemed so incredibly far gone. The only thing that let her know he was still connected to her beyond the drive of his dick against fluttering inner walls, was his erratic wavelength.

The bed creaked and groaned beneath their combined weight and constant shifting. Maka blushed when she realized that noise aided in her own arousal. That noise signified what was happening to her. What she allowed because she wanted to allow it. A reminder that someone larger and more powerful than her was bending her to his will...but only because she said it was ok.

Suddenly she was shifted, a yelp pushed from her lungs as she found her face shoved down into the mattress, ass raised high. She didn't even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed, too startled by the change in position to register any sort of impropriety. Soul's arms had snaked tightly around her waist, knees pulled under him for better leverage. He remained hunched over her, but this position offered greater freedom of movement, and he took advantage of it, battering into her completely uninhibited.

His lips were pulled back, twitching in some sort of pleasured grimace, breath ragged, wavelength spiking madly. The soft caresses usually offered were non existent. The words of love he always spoke were left unsaid. All he had for her were primal grunts, feral growls, and a carnal roar so deep that if Maka hadn't known him, she would have feared him. They were the sounds of a man so far gone it was a wonder his own heart had not exploded.

Soul's eyes found the mirror again and he watched as he fought a losing battle of controlling his own psyche. He was fracturing, splintering, shattering into a million pieces. All that existed was hot, silken Maka. HIS Maka. She was his. Only his. And he proved it over and over again, with every thrust of his hips, every bite mark placed on her back, the scent that he left on her when they rutted like animals. Like now, as she pushed back against him to keep from falling off the bed.

His orgasm hit him so suddenly and with such force he blacked out for a couple of seconds. There was white behind his eyelids, then black, then nothingness. There was heat, so hot, and his mouth opened in a silent scream as he filled her. Arms wrapped in a vice grip around her waist, body shuddering with effort until all he could do was rock. He rocked, and rocked, and rocked until he finally stilled over her. Propped up on his elbows and still buried inside her, refusing to separate himself from her, he kissed her nape. His wavelength had settled moderately though the music that played was still ominous and slow.

Maka arched up against him cautiously, not wanting to spook him. "Are you ok?"

He was shivering like a mad man, though unlike their first time together, this was not nervousness. He had simply exhausted himself.

"I'm...ok," he whispered carefully. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...that's not what I..."

"Don't apologize to me. You did what I asked. You let it happen. It's what you needed. It's what we needed," she purred at him, raising her head to nuzzle under his chin. A lioness soothing her king.

A deep rumble was his response.

He slipped away from her, holding in a hiss as the cool air hit his groin. When Maka made to move, a pointed glare was settled on her. Soul didn't know why he responded that way. It was just instinctual. His face softened when he saw her settle back on the bed.

Blankets were peeled away from pillows and a broad arm deftly hooked around Maka's waist as Soul pulled her up to him, settling her beneath the covers. His face was buried in her hair, heavy arm draped protectively over her hip, fingertips twitching against the skin of her stomach.

"Maka?" he whispered against her neck, pulling her closer, making it clear she would not be moving for awhile.

"Yeah?"

There was a soft sigh and an even softer reply as Soul hugged her tightly. "I missed you."


	3. Epilgue

In the subsequent weeks of their undeniably rough lovemaking session, sex had halted again.

The first week both Soul and Maka admitted they were too sore to engage in more of such an activity. Neither one was sorry. The second week, Soul's guilt had caught up to him, and while he would eagerly kiss and grope and grind, he refused to have sex. By the third week post mating (because neither could deny that was what it had been), Maka seemed to have caught a stomach bug, and she spent most of her time in the bathroom vomiting.

Ever the doting husband, Soul brought her soda crackers, water, held her hair when she asked him to (and even when she didn't), and rubbed her back when she cried afterwards. She was miserable, and he hated it. She hated it, but she didn't complain.

It wasn't until week five when she walked out of the bathroom, face tearstained and red, that all of the madness ceased to be.

Soul lounged on the couch, a long leg dangling over the arm, popcorn on his stomach as he watched Bruce Willis blow up something or another. Things were exploding, it was all good to him. It was a small voice that pulled his attention away from the glowing screen, brow crinkling with concern as he took in the pale face of his wife.

"Soul?" Maka practically whimpered, her voice quiet, almost nonexistent.

He immediately bolted upright, afraid, nauseous, and unsure. He didn't even have time to get off the couch before a small body hurtled into his, pinning him back onto the couch. Sobs wracked Maka's body, and all he did was hug her and kiss along her hairline. She hugged him back tightly, and desperate crying soon made way to near insane laughter as tiny hands rested against tanned cheeks.

"We did it," she whispered and kissed his nose.

Soul blinked, uncomprehending. It took his brain a minute to catch up with her words as he was distracted by the kisses she peppered all over his face. And then his eyes widened and a strangled noise escaped his throat.

"You mean I…you're…we…!?" he was eloquent as ever.

Maka laughed again and it was the most brilliant sound Soul had ever heard.

"Congratulations, Soul Evans. We are going to be parents."


End file.
